It Takes An Ending
by Morgan72uk
Summary: Two people who work together stumble out of a bar into the arms of a one night stand, an event which changes everything, eventually. Things could get very complicated between House, Wilson and Cuddy.
1. Time and Tides

Title: It TakesAn Ending (to send you on your way) 

Author: Morgan72uk

Summary: Two people who work together stumble out of a bar into the arms of a one night stand.

Rating: T

Pairing: Wilson/Cuddy/House

Disclaimer: Still hoping not to be sued.

Distribution: Sure - though please ask first

A/N - well, where to start... I suppose it was House teasing Cuddy about their having had sex. I started thinking - what if the one night stand wasn't House and Cuddy?

**It takes an ending… to send you on your way **

Wilson

He knows he shouldn't do this to himself, he knows that dangers lurk in memories, that the past is a foreign country – but he closes his eyes and lets the present slip away.

It is a wet and windy Friday night and he is in quiet bar, contemplating the dying embers of a marriage in the bottom of a glass of scotch. It is not his first – marriage or scotch. As he swirls the remnants of the liquid around in the heavy glass his thoughts dwell on questions without answers - questions of metaphysics and philosophy. It is a diversion from the questions he could find answers to – if only he wanted to dwell on the reasons two people can find to stop loving each other.

So intent is he on his study of these mysteries that he almost misses her. But not even alcohol can prevent him from noticing a beautiful woman when she walks into the bar.

For a split second he has no idea who she is; she looks completely different, wearing jeans and a dark shirt, her hair falling in soft waves around her face and without a lab coat or a suit in sight. When he does recognise her he actually considers the possibility that she is her own twin sister, the one who doesn't run the hospital where he works.

Seeing her in casual clothing is almost as incongruous as realising that she is on a date and watching her is even more fascinating than alcohol. He had no idea that she was seeing anyone – although there is no reason he would know. His closest friend refers to her as his nemesis, so it's not all that surprising that their relationship has never developed beyond the slight camaraderie that comes with trying to keep House out of trouble.

He tries not to stare, but her body language is – perplexing. She is talking to the guy she is with, a muscular, suited type who looks far too pleased with himself, but keeping her distance. She certainly isn't flirting and he wonders if this could mean she isn't enjoying herself.

The other people she is with do behave like a couple, maintaining eye contact as they talk, sitting close to one another, touching; he can almost see them finishing each other's sentences. He is irritated to realise that he never achieved this quite rudimentary level of intimacy with his soon to be former wife.

If he were House he'd go over there and interrupt, just for the sake of embarrassing her. But he isn't House and embarrassing Cuddy isn't the way he wants to spend the evening.

The conclusion that she is not enjoying herself is reinforced when she looks up and sees him. Her expression is one of relief and he almost smiles at the familiarity of the expression – this is how she looks in Board meetings after a verbose colleague has finished speaking. A few seconds later she excuses herself from her companions and winds her way across the bar, completely unaware of the several pairs of eyes following her progress.

'Dr Wilson,'

'Dr Cuddy,' sliding onto the barstool she orders herself a drink – her eyes flick over his scotch but evidently she decides he doesn't need a refill. 'Enjoying the date?' He asks, just to let her know that he's worked it out – she grimaces.

'Never let your friends set you up with people they are certain are "perfect" for you,' is her response and then she catches herself, 'sorry.' Well, at least he has no need to bring her up to date.

'I see the hospital grapevine is working.'

'I'm afraid so. She's really gone?'

'The matter is in the hands of our attorneys.' He half expects her to tell him how sorry she is – but instead she nods to the glass.

'How much have you had to drink?'

'Not nearly enough.' He glances back across the bar and realises the conversation is being watched. 'Your date doesn't look too happy about being abandoned.' She shrugs,

'He'll get over it.' At his raised eyebrow she adds, 'I don't think it's going to work out.'

'How long have you known him?'

'Twenty minutes.'

'Wow. That's fast.'

'He's in IT,' she offers, as though that should explain everything.

'Well, get back over there – you know we need to up-grade our systems.' Her laughter is all the more welcome for being unfamiliar; she really ought to laugh more. Suddenly he is bold enough to lean towards her and ask, 'do you want to get out of here?'

Surprise is quickly replaced by an equally unfamiliar look of pure mischief. 'It will have to be a crisis at the hospital – they'll page me first – and then you – I'll meet you outside in 5 minutes.'

She is waiting outside the bar, valiantly trying not to get wet, although her umbrella is in critical condition. 'I'm not sure they believed me' she gives every impression of being unconcerned by this, 'where are we going?'

'Anywhere but here.' He grabs her wrist and draws her with him, pausing only to pluck the contraption out of her hand and throw it away.

The bar he leads her to is out of the way, dark and smoky. He knows it well, since it is a favoured destination of House's and at first it feels odd to be here without him. And then it doesn't, because Cuddy slinks into the bar at his side and the atmosphere wraps around her, or she wraps around it and either way he decides not to think about House too much at the moment; which is why it is she who invokes his name first.

'So, why aren't you drowning your sorrows with House?' He isn't fooled by the casual tone she adopts, although the finger she slides round the rim of her glass is a distraction in itself.

'Because under the circumstances I thought I'd better come to terms with the situation myself first.' What he doesn't say is that being around House may not be what either of them need just now.

Cuddy looks thoughtful for a moment, 'and is that what you're doing tonight – coming to terms?' The truth is, he has no idea what he's doing – but he isn't going to admit that to her, although when he looks up and meets her candid gaze he realises that she already knows. He takes a sip of his drink, searching for a new subject.

'So, Dr Lisa Cuddy, toast of PPTH, just why is it that your friends are setting you up with dates? Surely you don't need their help?' He isn't prepared for the shadows that cross her face, before she banishes them to be replaced by an expression of amused resignation.

'Well, apparently I work too hard, only meet Doctors and, according to my closest friends, I can be intimidating.'

'Can't say I've noticed,' he drawls – succeeding in his goal of making her laugh.

The impending divorce must have dulled his senses – because it takes two hours to work out that she is trying to seduce him. She is good at it, incredibly subtle and letting her succeed is a very alluring prospect. But working with her, correction working for her – means it's not something he can just let happen without comment.

For a moment he considers that he might be wrong, that it might be wishful thinking and alcohol. But as he casts a glance in her direction she is watching him from under her lashes and she smiles, realising that her intent has become clear.

'This is a bad idea,' he tells her.

'Really?'

'You know it is. Why are you even considering…?' He isn't quite sure how to finish the question.

'Curiosity.' It is not the reply that he expects. 'You've never made a move on me Dr Wilson – and considering your reputation that is, surprising. So, I'm curious.'

'And how far does that curiosity extend?' She quirks an eyebrow in response and when she shrugs her shirt shifts to reveal a little more of the skin he's been carefully ignoring until now. There is something very ironic about making such an effort to be the perfect gentleman all evening – when in fact… 'Is this what your friends mean when they say you're intimidating?' He enquires – hoping to wrong-foot her, just a little.

'Yes – because I spend so much time finding ways to get the Doctors who work for me into bed.' There is something in her tone that makes him smile.

'I'm the first?' She sighs and rolls her eyes dramatically.

'Yes, you are the first Doctor who works for me I've even considered having sex with – although I have to tell you I'm going off the idea more and more by the second.'

'No you aren't.' This is territory he is familiar with and he leans across the table and captures one of her hands in his. 'Just to be clear – there are, conditions…?' Another one of those questions he can't quite finish; but when she moistens her lips before replying it is difficult to remember that he asked her anything. He fights the urge to kiss her – because he has a feeling what happens next is going to be very important.

'No one finds out,' she says quietly, 'and I mean no one.' She doesn't need to say the name – and he doesn't need to ask. But he nods, sealing the agreement – and then kisses her.

Time is, as he knows very well, an elastic concept. Which is why when he opens his eyes he is momentarily disorientated. It isn't the same bar, hell it isn't the same year and he is drinking to the end of a different marriage. If he turns his head and looks over his shoulder he will be faced with another difference – this time he isn't drinking alone.

He has no idea why that night is suddenly on his mind – he's scarcely given it a thought over the last three years. He let her get away and there is nothing that can be done to change that. She said, in the half-light of dawn, that she wasn't anyone's consolation prize and nothing that has happened since has given him any reason to doubt her.

But the truth is, she is sitting across the bar once again – and his memory is traitorous. This time there is no unsuitable blind date to see off. This time the competition might just be his best friend, although since he and Cuddy are being so careful about not watching each other it is hard to tell if either of them has realised that something fundamental has shifted between them. And if they haven't noticed – does that mean he can intervene with a clear conscience?


	2. In deep water

A/N - well, where to start... I suppose it was House teasing Cuddy about their having had sex. I started thinking - what if the one night stand wasn't House and Cuddy? Then I started to think about the deliciously complicated currents that could flow between the three of them.

**It takes an ending (to send you on your way)**

Cuddy

She doesn't know what she is doing here. Having a drink while debating a diagnosis is the formal explanation. However, in reality they are keeping an eye on Wilson – who is drinking to the end of another marriage. Cuddy thinks James is going to be OK – that he is probably relieved the entered into at haste third marriage is over. But he isn't going to admit that and she has no plans to offer an opinion. Since House believes himself to be the world's greatest expert on what Wilson does when his marriages end, suggesting an alternative explanation, even one based on experience, is not a good plan.

To say that the atmosphere is odd would be a massive understatement. House's team (she refuses to refer to them by any of the nicknames doing the rounds) probably know her better than other junior Doctors at PPTH – but that's due to the amount of time House spends skirting the borders of trouble. While they aren't daunted at being in a bar withthe Dean of Medicine – they aren't exactly relaxed either.

House isn't saying much – which would be welcome if she wasn't worried about what his silence means. Experience has taught her that a silent House is a House who is thinking – and apreoccupied House is capable of almost anything. In this case he should be thinking about Wilson – but when she looks across the table she is the one he is looking at, his expression pensive – which isn't something she is used to. He catches himself and contributes a characteristically sardonic remark to Foreman's debate with Chase and Cameron about the diagnosis. But the feeling that she is what's on his mind is – disconcerting.

Far better to think about the past, far better and safer to dwell on the last time Wilson was on the brink of a divorce. The memories aren't painful, not any longer. They represent the last time she let go, did something just a little crazy, and for that reason alone it's not something to have any regrets about.

Two people who work together stumble out of a bar into the arms of a one night stand. It should have been a disaster; it should have been embarrassing and awkward. That it wasn't any of these things still seems little short of miraculous; even now she sometimes quietly wonders why she let him go. But these are musings best left to the depths of sleepless nights and, of course, the answer is she let him go because she had no wish to be another of his former wives.

She thinks she explained it best as he was dressing in the early hours of the following morning. When he asked 'what happens now?' she was curled up in tangled sheets, watching him retrieve clothing scattered the night before.

'I don't do rebound relationships and I'm not a consolation prize. This was very pleasant,' his raised eyebrow was enough to make her smile, 'OK – more than pleasant – but you aren't ready for anything more.'

'I could be ready.' Was she tempted? Perhaps, just for a moment. But the woman who had taken him home the night before was far too realistic about him in the cold light of morning.

'In six months – if you still feel that way, tell me.' She had kissed him goodbye; serious enough about the offer to let herself enjoy the feel of his mouth, but even then she knew that it wouldn't happen.

And time proved her right – before the 6 months were up he was involved in Julie, then he was married – now he is divorcing – again.

So – a one night stand with James Wilson, not the greatest idea in the world, but not the worst either. For all that she is, generally speaking, too interested in being in control to be drawn to chance encounters and single nights, there was enough respect and affection between them to elevate what happened beyond the tawdry. And she didn't have the slightest difficulty in looking him in the eye, of working with him afterwards.

It is a different matter with his partner in crime; a man she will happily admit is a thorn in her side. Long ago she reached the conclusion that if she were to kill him, no jury would convict. There is a ridiculous amount of evidence to support a defence of provocation.

But she isn't going to kill him – he may be a bastard, but he's also an asset to the hospital, a Doctor of precocious brilliance with an almost flawless record of saving lives – facts he is far too aware of.

If she's been watching him extra carefully of late it's because she has been waiting to see if Stacy being back causes an explosion – something that will require skills at damage control to contain. So far there has been nothing to demand such an intervention – although he looks even more tired than ever. His pain and damage seem to have been internalised and while she is glad not to be on cleanup duty, that can't be good.

She tells yourself that she is worried about what will happen and how it will impact the hospital – and there are days, or minutes of days, when that is what she believes. But the truth is she is worried about House – and there is nothing comfortable about that. There is some guilt in the way she feels about him – and just to rub salt in the wound a fair measure of attraction too.

She isn't daunted by having a member of staff who challenges her to the extent he does; the daily tussles, verbal sparring and one upmanship are irritating yet strangely addictive. He's both the most infuriating and the most interesting man she knows and if he didn't have an ego the size of a small planet she'd be trying a lot harder to make him want her.

But she isn't trying at all – because she helped his lover betray him, because she can't or won't compete with Cameron and the devotion and sheer goodness she seems to offering. Except that he keeps watching her with an expression she doesn't recognise and the shiver of longing she feels at looking up and meeting that assessing gaze is almost enough to make her throw caution to the winds – almost.

But she isn't considering it. At all. It's a terrible idea. She doesn't harbour any illusions about him – and surely you need to have some illusions about a person you are attracted to? Isn't the point of wanting someone?

So, the tingling wash of sensation his scrutiny brings is inconvenient. The momentary spurt of triumph that comes when he looks uncomfortable at being caught isn't something to base any decisions on. It is illusory, it can't be trusted; Doctors base decisions on facts, logic. The facts are – he's hiding from Stacy and toying with Cameron and right now she is the only other game in town.

She thinks if she can just get out of range she'll be safe from doing something monumentally stupid. If she can't feel his gaze then there will be no need to struggle past the temptation to see what would happen if she started to play the game.

When she reachs the bar Wilson hands her a drink and doesn't comment on the abrupt departure from the table where everyone else is sitting, doesn't ask what the hell she is doing here anyway – since she almost never socialises with the rest of the staff.

'You OK?' she asks, because after all, he is the one in the midst of emotional trauma. In response he smiles and raises his glass.

'I'm thinking about the past, about the last time I was getting divorced.'

'James,' this doesn't seem like the wisest conversation to be having.

'Does he know?' he asks, nodding towards the table.

'About you and I? I don't think so. Apart from anything else I don't see him keeping quiet about it if he did.'

'I meant about you and him.' For a moment she is speechless, and then she tries to laugh off his remark. Not a great strategy – but worth a try.

'Am I going to need to get you a psych consult? There's nothing between us.'

'Are you sure?' He leaves the question hanging for a moment before continuing, 'something's changed – you know it, I can see it; is it possible that the great detective is the only one who hasn't figured it out yet?' There is, admittedly, a certain irony to that – but who the hell knows what goes on in the mind of the man in question?

'All that's changed is that he's looking for a place to hide from how he feels about Stacy,' she says calmly, certain of her analysis, 'anyone female with a pulse would probably do right now. I'm sure Dr Cameron would be more than happy to…'

'I'm sure she would, the thing is, you're the one he seems to be watching.' She resists the temptation to look over to see if Wilson is right and before she can find a response he adds, 'over 3 years ago I met a woman in a bar, a woman I wanted. I was very stupid and I let her get away, and I think its too late to change that. I haven't seen her for a while, she seems to have got lost – but I happen to believe that if she were to make a reappearance there are very few men who'd be able to resist her – including him.

The room seems to still as they watch each other. Her head is spinning – from the fact that he still seems to want her, and yet seems to be suggesting that, though he may not realise it, House does too. She knows that she will never get to the bottom of their friendship, never understand either of them. And, while he is telling her to choose House, his eyes blaze with regret. The currents here are strong and treacherous, she hates the feeling that she has strayed out of her depth.

Slowly she looks over her shoulder, taking a sip of her drink to steady her nerves and taking the opportunity to study House. He isgazing moodily into space – but there is tension in his shoulders and his air of detached boredom is just a little more forced than usual. Options and strategies rattle around inside her head, coalescing into a single thought, 'screw it,' she says quietly and decides to throw the dice - see what happens.


	3. Storms and Tempests

A/N - Thanks for the reviews and feedback. I am glad I'm not the only one who finds the House / Wilson / Cuddy triangle fascinating. I hope the House part (which was the hardest to write) fits with the rest of the story.

**It Takes An Ending (to send you on your way)**

House

His leg hurts. The pain is not yet distracting enough to impinge on his ability to think, but it is above the level of background pain that is with him constantly. He is, he calculates, about an hour away from needing some more vicodin. He searches for distraction, for an excuse not to give in yet, a reason to take the pill later rather than right now – part of the ongoing battle with control that he only periodically cares about winning.

The conversation across the table is of minimal interest. Almost grudgingly House has to admit that Foreman is almost there, close to the solution. The neurologist is getting better at putting all the pieces together – although he still needs to let go of his fear of making mistakes – and the evidence suggests that is going to take a while.

There are times when a set of mystery symptoms is a place to lose himself – but tonight isn't going to be one of them. He worked out what was wrong with the patient before leaving the hospital, only keeping the coup de grace to himself so he could use the debate as cover for getting Wilson out of the office.

Since divorce number 3 became a reality he has been waiting for the inevitable explosion, but it hasn't come. A break in the pattern is disturbing (even if one ignores for a moment the fact that no one should really have a 'pattern' for behaviour in the face of divorce). Experience tells him that by now there should be recriminations, depression, vows to never fall in love again.

A slightly husky contribution to the discussion draws his attention back across the table. Cuddy looks as though she is only partially paying attention, but she has clearly been listening closely enough to throw a suggestion into the pot – a good suggestion as it happens – although he has no plans to tell her that.

He isn't sure what she is doing here. She was in the hallway when he corralled Wilson, but she hardly even socialises with her minions – and she does little without an ulterior motive. So, she must be up to something. He considers for a moment that he might be paranoid. That Cuddy might be interested in the outcome of the case or have felt like a drink with some colleagues. Although he isn't used to accepting the idea that his personal devil might have a yen for social contact. Perhaps, he concludes, people get the devils they deserve.

He is not used to thinking overly much about Cuddy – but right now she may prove to be the distraction he needs. It is odd that she has never been the target of his curiosity. Is it because her defences are more formidable than some of his other victims? Or is it that even he recognises that discretion is sometimes the better part of valour- since if he digs too deeply she is in a position to make his life more difficult? Or is it because he is afraid of what he might find if he looks too closely?

But he is looking closely now – at her and his behaviour towards her. As reluctant as he is to admit it, there has been a shift of ground between them. Since she went to the mat with Vogler to protect him he is conscious of an irritating sense of gratitude and trust. Obviously he has been over-compensating for this by being as rude and uncooperative as ever.

Her lips curve into a slight smile at some private thought and he realises with a jolt that she is – compelling. He is not going to use any more descriptive phrases – he refuses to concede that she is worth looking at. She is bossy and sarcastic and insulting her has become almost second nature to him. Almost. But as she turns her head and arches her neck – completely unaware of the impression she is creating, he sucks in a breath- because in that split second he realises that he wants her.

Their eyes meet in a stuttering, uncomfortable moment and as he watches emotions chase themselves across her face. He doesn't even attempt to keep up, to interpret – he is still amused by the knowledge that he can discompose her without even opening his mouth. A perception that is confirmed when she departs abruptly for the bar and a conversation with Wilson.

He watches her go – appreciating the impression she creates as she moves. Decent body, he catalogues - well perhaps better than decent. A smoky voice – when she isn't yelling. Beauty is subjective he knows, but there is no doubt that she is a woman you'd notice, a woman who'd demand your attention - and then he remembers that she is his boss, or at least the closest thing to an authority figure he recognises. Viewing her as a woman, a desirable woman is just wrong – and he isn't going to do it again.

Her conversation with Wilson rapidly engrosses them both. She leans towards him, listening intently to whatever he is saying until finally she glances back over her shoulder, leaving House in little doubt that he is, to some extent, the subject of their discussion.

While he is still trying to figure out what that means she rests her hand over Wilson's – and a missing piece of the puzzle slides effortlessly into place. He almost hisses as the realisation hits him. How has he missed this? Why has his so-called friend not said anything?

As Cuddy slips away he heaves himself up and moves rapidly across the bar. 'You're screwing her,' he accuses with scant regard for who might overhear.

'Actually I'm not – right now.' Semantics, or something deeper? He pauses, watching Wilson's expression.

'When?'

'Three years ago – the last time I found myself, between divorces.' The bitterness is a distraction and House makes himself see past it, grasping the essentials.

'You didn't say anything,'

'Actually I did, I just omitted the identity of the other person concerned.' He searches his memory, he doesn't deliberately store away details of Wilson's liaisons – they just stay in his mind, the way most things do, until they connect with some other piece of information.

'The woman in the bar – best night you'd had in blah, blah, blah – that was Cuddy?' There is a shadow of something he doesn't recognise in Wilson's eyes, 'you said you didn't know who she was.'

'I lied about that.' Everyone lies, he knows this, but he is momentarily floored by the knowledge that 'everyone' apparently includes Wilson.

'Why didn't you… carry on seeing her?' He doesn't want to think about how that question almost sticks in his throat.

'I wanted to – but she thought I wasn't ready for a relationship. She suggested we wait six months – but I met Julie, who didn't have the same reservations.' There is very little doubt that Cuddy is considerably smarter than the soon to be former Mrs Wilson. He can't blame her for wanting James to be clear about which relationship he was in – and current events do seem to have vindicated her caution.

'Well, you're getting unmarried again.' He is reluctant to accept the idea of Cuddy and Wilson, together. If he is pushed to justify his reaction he will say it is because Wilson is his friend and Cuddy is – well, complicated doesn't really begin to describeCuddy.

'Things are different – I don't think she's interested in revisiting paths not taken.'

'You don't know that – you're attractive in an off beat type of way, if you like ageing Romeo types. She was interested enough at one point – I am sure you can convince her, if that's what you want.' His attempt to be supportive is a woeful failure and it is a good job Wilson knows him well – knows better than to expect anything more.

'I might be inclined to try – but I don't want to get in anyone else's way.' His look is pointed, enough for his meaning to be clearwithout saying anything further.

'I'm not…'

'Not what?' It isn't Wilson who asks the question. Cuddy glides back up to the bar and reclaims her drink. She directs her gaze in his direction and asks the question as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

'Not interested in the lurid details of your night of passion with Casanova here. He's been desperate to tell me all about it.' To her credit Cuddy doesn't as much as bat an eyelid at this, but then with her job he supposes having a good poker face is an advantage.

'Now, what is it about that statement that I'm having difficulty with?' She wonders out loud, 'is it that James would tell you, or that if he did you wouldn't be interested in getting all the details?'

'Your faith in the Clark Kent of Oncology is touching – and yet, I have found out. How did that happen?'

'He guessed,' Wilson contributes – although House suspects Cuddy knew that already.

'But he will tell me all about your – needs – eventually.' Something is wrong, Cuddy isn't responding the way he expects her to, she isn't embarrassed or defensive. Instead she shrugs, pushing her hair back from her face in a gesture that is arresting and observes,

'I suppose that would be the next best thing to finding out for yourself.' Out of the corner of his eye he sees James smoother a smile and he wonders what it is he knows, or thinks he knows, that he is finding so damn amusing.

'Well, it's going to be really fun sharing the details with the rest of the hospital. I was thinking email, but now I'm coming round to the idea of scribbling something on the wall of the men's room – got to be faster.'

'Do you think anyone is going to be interested in something that happened 3 years ago?' Wilson enquires, flicking another of those conspiratorial glances towards his partner in crime – and in other things.

'I think they are going to be fascinated to learn that our glorious leader has anything approaching a sex life. Until now popular opinion has been that she was more machine than woman.' Finally one of his barbs seems to hit home, Cuddy flinches at his words and he ruthlessly suppresses the spurt of regret and carries on. 'I'm sure everyone will pretend to be surprised that you were the one to breech those walls James – found the woman behind the paperwork and the meetings. I think they will be very interested to learn that beneath those snappy little suits and the oh so professional demeanour lurks a woman who picks men up in bars and takes them home with her.' This time though Wilson flinches, it is Cuddy who speaks, her voice low and dangerous.

'If you're hoping I'll slap you for that I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.'

'Isn't it a little late to pretend to be restrained?'

'House - stop it.' He glances over at Wilson who has finally found his voice – his expression is laced with concern.

'It's touching that you're prepared to defend her – but I suspect Dr Cuddy can look after herself.'

'I know she can, she's not the one I think is in trouble here.'

'What does that mean?' He supposes he shouldn't read too much into the fact that it isn't Wilson who answers the question - it's shaping up to be that kind of evening.

'He's trying to work out if all this vitriol is part of your normal, charming personality, or whether its because you're jealous… and I have to say, I'm starting to wonder about that myself.'

It would be a ridiculous suggestion – if it weren't slightly true. He'd refute it angrily and loudly to anyone who happened to pass by if doing so wouldn't mean admitting, to himself at least, that somewhere along the line he'd decided that if anyone was going to have a thing with Cuddy, then it was going to be him.

This is unfamiliar territory and he blames Vogler and his money for this change in the battle that has raged between them across the years. Swiftly and silently he curses everyone who could possibly be held responsible for this situation – and it's quite a list. Cameron for believing he is capable of any sort of relationship, Stacy for reminding him of vulnerability and tenderness, Wilson for picking the worst possible moment to demonstrate his tendency towards romantic comedy and Cuddy herself for transforming, before his eyes, into a beautiful woman with a line in sarcasm to match his own and defences strong enough to remind him he isn't the only one who will do almost anything to avoid being hurt.

He needs more scotch, he needs to down the rest of the painkillers in his pocket, he needs to say something before people start reading too much into his silence.

He looks up, intending to meet Cuddy's gaze and tell her (and Wilson) that he wouldn't sleep with her if she was the last woman alive. But her eyes are amused, her lips already curving into a smile. 'I know,' she says, 'it's the most ridiculous thought.'

'Reverse psychology – is that a tactic that has worked for you in the past?'

'Not a tactic Doctor House. Just an observation.' She finishes her drink and leans forward to kiss James on the cheek. 'I'm going home – call me if you need an adult to talk to.'

She leaves without a backward glance and as the door closes behind her the feeling that he has let something go lingers, perhaps with the scent of her perfume. As he looks at the door in the wake of her departure Wilson says quietly,

'Go after her.'

'Are you kidding, I've only just got her to leave.'

'Don't be an idiot. Go after her – don't think, don't debate and above all don't diagnose.'

'Why?' Wilson rolls his eyes – and then says, with the quiet conviction he uses to such effect on his patients.

'Because she might just be the only woman who can put up with you. Because wanting someone isn't the same as needing them. Because she isn't Stacy or Cameron and equating her with them does her an injustice. And because if you don't, I will.'


	4. Ebb and Flow

A/N – you may not believe this – but once upon a time this was a Wilson / Cuddy piece – with House playing a bit part. I know, the best-laid plans and all that. I should have known better. However, to salve my guilt – Dr Wilson will be getting the last word.

Thank you for all the lovely feedback – it's greatly appreciated. I hope you forgive me for not writing all the scenes. I've come to ambiguity late in life, but now I'm rather fond of it.

**It takes an ending…**

Wilson 

He is full of benevolent feelings – extending towards most of humanity and his ex-wives. But then, the scotch is very good and he is smoking a cigar. The latter is risky behaviour for an oncologist - but something he allows himself to indulge in on the anniversary of his birth. He looks around him, still surprised by the feeling of, contentment that suffuses him. Three months ago Julie left him and for the first time in a long time he believes he is as in control of his personal life as he is of his professional life.

Although it is an informal party the bar is packed with people from the hospital – which could be evidence of his popularity, or it could just be that his birthday coincides with the end of a long week and a lot of people were feeling the need for a drink. Either way he is not complaining.

Beside him House flicks his gaze towards the entrance for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes; the only outward sign that he is waiting for someone. Without this fractional evidence of impatience his demeanour would be exactly the same as ever, petulant, obstinate and downright arrogant. His contributions to the discussion have been negligible – which has at least prevented him from offending anyone – but then the night is still young.

Some facts, however, are inescapable and the truth is in recent months things have changed. 'That night' as he has taken to referring to it – if only in his mind, House did overcome his obstinacy enough to leave the bar to go after Cuddy and neither of them returned. The next day he was taciturn and evasive – hardly unusual behaviour and not suggestive of anything in particular – but he was also still wearing the previous days clothes. Under normal circumstances Wilson probably wouldn't have thought twice about that either – but the circumstances were hardly normal.

Wilson isn't brave enough to attempt to define what it is that House and Cuddy have established. He is only periodically brave enough to enquire whether they are involved at all and he has learnt to be extremely careful about using words such as 'dating', 'relationship' and 'girlfriend' – which doesn't mean he is averse to using them to irritate his friend, from time to time.

If Cuddy has extra leverage to get House to do his clinic hours there is no sign of her using it. On this subject, as well as on many others, they have both been silent. She makes sure he delivers his hours; he looks for ways out of his obligations - using excuses and whatever other ways he can find to irritate her. She tries to keep him out of trouble, only periodically succeeding – and makes sure she has a back up plan for when the worst happens. If they have been seen quietly slipping out of the building together at the end of the day then that is their business.

The hospital has no idea what to make of this alleged change in their– there have been rumours, counter-rumours, gossip, and innuendo. The prevailing mood among observers is bemused curiously. No one seems to believe that it won't turn out to be a joke, a mistake or a disaster waiting to happen. He is fairly sure that it isn't any of these – but beyond that he isn't prepared to hazard a guess.

The reason for House's unusual preoccupation with the entrance to the bar is that the woman is question is running late. As a Board member Wilson knows what is detaining Cuddy and he suspects that House knows too. Dismissing a member of staff for a disciplinary matter is a far from pleasant experience – because it is being handled by Cuddy the case is watertight and the severance package will be generous – but no one is expecting the member of staff concerned to leave without a fight. He is very glad this isn't a part of his job.

He hopes Cuddy is going to be OK – putting the case together has involved a lot of additional work – for a woman who is already extremely busy. Added to that he has absolutely no idea how House will behave if he is required to offer intelligent support and sympathy. Ordinarily he wouldn't be optimistic – but he has stopped trying to anticipate what House will do most of the time – and when it comes to House and Cuddy he has learnt to expect the unexpected.

That the relationship seems to work for House is little short of miraculous – but the evidence, although slight, does point to a degree of – he hesitates to use the word 'happiness' and settles for something less cheerful, like neutrality. His work rate is up, marginally, he is taking slightly fewer vicodin and drinking less. He is still a miserable, difficult, hostile misanthrope and if someone annoys him all bets are off – but he seems – rested, in a way he hasn't for a long time. Even if Cuddy has just added to the list of things House would miss if he were to lose them - then what she has given him is immensely important.

When she finally slips into the bar his distraction technique has been only partially successful. Drawing House into a conversation with Foreman seems a tactic that is likely to end badly – probably for Foreman. He is fairly sure that House knows what he is doing – there have been a couple of looks – complicit, amused and he is just waiting for the sardonic remark. He is grateful that Cuddy's arrival seems likely to cause distraction on a number of levels.

He watches House look at her, his gaze is assessing as he concentrates on her in a way he seldom does and then he looks away. Wilson would like to speculate about what it is he sees that the rest of them don't, House looks beyond the surface of things at the best of times and intimacy can only add to that.

What is clear is that Cuddy has bought the tension of the day with her. The set of her shoulders, the way she holds herself as though she is waiting for the next blow to fall, tell him that the meeting went about as well as expected. He catches her eye and asks the question with a raised eyebrow. Her response is a shrug that seems to confirm his suspicions – this is not the time or the place to ask her about the damage control strategy she has undoubtedly already put into effect. This would be a very good time for House to well, not be House.

'Foreman, it's going to be a lot better for your career to get the Dean of Medicine a drink than it will be to stand here glaring at me.' Unfortunately the analysis is an accurate one – a conclusion Foreman reaches with a distinct lack of grace. But the barb serves a purpose as almost everyone is distracted by the look on Foreman's face. Almost everyone fails to notice the look House and Cuddy share – a look not even Wilson is prepared to try to interpret. More to the purpose is the touch to the small of her back, gentle and fleeting – conveying intimacy, familiarity and support in a single moment. Maybe House is better at this than expected – or maybe he just knows Cuddy well enough to find a way to give her what she needs without compromising himself in the process. Wilson suspects it is a mystery he will never get to the bottom of.

He hopes she knows what she is doing. He feels a sense of, responsibility for their relationship - as though he had somehow engineered it. In fact all he did was draw attention to something that had been there all along. If he can claim credit for anything at all, it is simply for having very good timing.

But Cuddy isn't going to get an easy ride with House and he has to wonder if she knows what she is getting herself into. After all, no one can plan to find him or herself in a relationship with someone who is so blatantly bad at all types of relationship – and who cares little about what other people think of him. Their relationship, which was combative at the best of times, now has the potential to become combustible. And yet whatever type of balance it is they have found in each other – it is holding.

There is part of him that believes he would have been a better bet for a relationship than House. That for all his divorces he has the willingness to find space in his life for another person – something that he knows his closest friend lacks. But she chose House, which makes the reasoning somewhat irrelevant.

Foreman returns with the drinks and under cover of their distribution Wilson takes the opportunity to ask in a low voice, 'is she all right?'

'She's about to explode. I'm going to get her out of here – I like my ducklings in one piece.' It is an odd statement but when he looks up Cuddy is locked into what bears all the hallmarks of an earnest conversation with Cameron and he decides House might be right.

'We still on for tomorrow?'

'Sure, beer, tv, your place?' Some things don't change and he is grateful for this.

'Have a good evening James – behave yourself, don't go fluttering your eyelashes at any strange women.'

'Seriously?'

'Well, I am reliably informed the last time you were in a bar by yourself you got picked up by a really hot woman – and look how that ended.' His voice is just loud enough to carry and glancing across the group Wilson is forced to conclude that Cuddy heard, but is just pretending that she didn't – which is probably a strategy she uses a lot. House's grin is decidedly mischievous and Wilson holds his breath, wondering what on earth can be coming next.

'Dr Cuddy, all that pent up tension can't be good for you.' As soon as he speaks he has the attention of the group around him, not to mention everyone in the bar who knows who they are. 'So, if you twist my arm I'm prepared to let you take me home and have your wicked way with me.' There is a sharply indrawn breath, which doesn't come from Cuddy. She satisfies herself with simply looking at House, wearing an expression somewhere between amusement and resignation. Her eyes narrow slightly, calculating, leaving Wilson to wonder if there is time to withdraw to watch the fireworks from a safe place – like California.

'Dr House,' her voice is a sultry purr that screams danger, 'I don't think force is going to be an issue.' She steps closer, not touching him, but tilting her head to look him in the eye. She might not be touching, but he is, as they stand toe to toe his hand comes to rest on her hip – whether it is to keep his balance or because he can't resist the temptation it is hard to say. 'In fact,' she continues, 'I'm fairly sure if I promise to…' her voice drops to a low murmur, inaudible to all but one member of her audience, 'you'll race me out of here.' There is little doubt that the missing part of her comment is very private.

House's expression is familiarly mutinous, but the hand on her hip doesn't move as he considers her words with care before responding. 'I don't think you should make promises you have no intention of delivering on.'

'Who says I'm not planning to deliver?' In a fluid movement that leaves spectators blinking she swirls away from him and is on her way out of the bar at a brisk walk – she doesn't look back.

'Damn!' House's voice is filled with reluctant admiration as he watches her departure. Sighing he finishes his drink and looks over at Wilson. 'Don't look so worried James – we'll be fine.'

'But will the rest of us?'

'Not my problem.' He taps his cane on the ground a couple of times, preoccupuied and apparently on the verge ofsaying something more. But then his mood shifts andhe leaves with nothing more that a 'see you tomorrow'.

Through the open door Wilson can see that Cuddy's exit has not taken her far – unsurprisingly she was confident that House wouldn't be far behind her. In the split second before the door closes, Wilson sees her face as she turns towards him. She is smiling – but her expression is shaky from exhaustion and stress. As he reaches her, just before they are obscured from view, House gives every impression of being on the brink of pulling her into an embrace.

In the wake of their departure the bar is silent, shock and amusement play on the faces of his colleagues. Foreman looks horrified and Cameron is smiling softly – which probably means she is as nice as she seems to be.

The only thing to do in a situation like this is to retire to a quiet corner for some scotch and reflection. He raises his glass in a silent toast to House and Cuddy, wishing them well on a journey that seems likely to contain more than its fair share of twists and turns.

He isn't sure how he feels - there is nostalgia in his response to Cuddy; perhaps everyone needs to have 'the one that got away' somewhere in their past. But he is not entirely sure that she really 'got away' – surely it is more that he allowed her to evade him?

In this moment, withscotch for company and the bustle of the bar as cover he allows himself to ponder the question that has been haunting him for weeks, the question he can't or won't attempt to answer - was it really Cuddy that he allowed to get away – or someone else?

The End


End file.
